Smitten
by Yoshidas
Summary: Falling in love with one's enemy makes everything exorbitantly more complicated. Balthier/OC
1. Prologue: The Marquis' Memories

Here's the prologue. Nothing particularly interesting, just the journal entry from the Marquis that you see at the beginning of the game. :)  
Carry on to the first chapter!

**Disclaimer: **No own FFXII or any of the characters. :D

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"_The death of Lord Rasler Heios Nabradia was but one of the many tragedies to befall the Kingdom of Dalmasca. The Air of Hope that had surrounded Princess Ashe's wedding was now quite lost: Dalmasca had been set adrift at the mercy of history's restless tides._

_At this time, two Great Empires struggled for domination over Ivalice: Archadia in the East. Rozzaria in the West. The invasion of the kingdom of Nabradia was Archadia's first step in its westward march._

_With Lord Raslers beloved homeland consumed by the Hell-fires of war, it seemed clear that Archadia would soon mete out a like fate to Dalmasca. The fall of the fortress at Nalbina tolled the destruction of the greater part of Dalmasca's forces._

_A counter-attack was mounted by the order of the Knights of Dalmasca, ever brave and faithful, but against the martial might of the Archadian armies, they stood little chance of victory.  
__Indeed, their defeat was to be absolute. Soon thereafter, Archadia came forward offering Terms of Peace. Or, as one might put it, Terms of Dalmasca's surrender._

_Lord Raminas, King of Dalmasca, had no choice but to accept these terms. It was, thus, only the reluctance that he set out for the Nalbina Fortress-now under Archadian Occupation-to affix his seal to the Emperor's Treaty of Peace._

_The king had scarce departed his Royal City of Rabanastre when the remnants of the order made their return. And not a moment too soon, for a terrible revelation awaited them. The Treaty would be signed with Steel and Writ in royal blood."_

**Memories of Marquis Halim Ondore IV**  
Chapter 12: The Fall of Kingdoms.


	2. Chapter 1: The Moogle and The Job

Chapter one!  
I feel a deep need to go play this game again. x)  
I still haven't beat Vayne's final form, FFFFFF.

**Chapter Summary: **I will not disappoint.  
**Disclaimer: **I only own Milos and Selenne, Ba'Gamnan and all other in-game characters copyright Squeenix.

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[ **Flashback: Giza Plains, 4 years ago** ]

**- The Dry** -

Heaving and sweat-drenched, Selenne gazed out from under her uneven auburn bangs. The sun was beating down on her exposed back, her shirt torn from the monsters' claws she'd been chasing, and the very same sun strained her eyes.

Gasping, she wiped her forehead with her sleeve before dropping to a kneeling position. It was hot.

In her left hand was one of the many daggers left to her by her father; her right hand was tightened into a fist, knuckles white.

A low growl escaped her throat, raising her fist and slamming it into the dirt.  
"Dammit!" she ground out through her gritted teeth. Her hands and fingernails were grimy from grappling in the dirt all day. She had been hunting monsters since morning; she'd even skipped breakfast. Thus far she'd been successful in her hunting, save the last monster.

Sighing deeply, she hauled herself from the dusty ground, readying herself to head back to the Nomad's camp. They were kind enough to provide her with food and board.

She dusted herself off, pausing to fix her gritty ponytail. Mentally, she vowed to bathe before night descended upon her.

Still, she felt horrid. She was hunting not for pleasure, but out of necessity. She needed to hone her skills in battle, especially now that she was alone in the world.  
She started walking, wallowing in her defeat. As she passed a cactus, she lashed out, slamming a fist again the plant's surface.

"Dammit!" she cried again, shutting her eyes tight to try and stop the tears, "I'm sorrry ... Mother ... Father..."

Sniffling slightly, she fell to a sitting position again.

"What's this? What's a fine young lady like you doing out here in the Giza?"

Her head shot up, a hand lifting to wipe the tears that had created streaks on her dirty face away. Who was that?

Glancing to her left, her maroon irises met cheery ochre. It was a moogle, garbed in jester gear. He smiled.

"Milos Thaddeus Mrite, at your service!" he bowed regally.

Selenne blinked, outstretching a hand to touch the pom-pom that bobbed playfully when ever he moved.

_Kupo_.

"Hey, hey! Watch the pom-pom, kupo!" He gasped, staggering out of the way. The daggers in his small hands clattered to the ground when he'd attempted to avoid her hand.

"Who .. who are you?" she asked quietly, shifting to better look at him. His face was covered in colorful maker; Selenne guessed he was part of the group of travelling entertainers she's heard the children in the camp talking about.

"Didn't I just tell you? You don't listen very well, do ya, doll?" he sighed.  
"I'm Milos Thaddeus Mrite, but everyone calls me Milos. You are?"  
he repeated, offering a warm smile.

"... S-Selenne Nathryme..." she responded, still fasinated by his pom-pom.

His eyes widened in shock, "Selenne Nathryme? Oh! Your father is a legend among those of us who use daggers. He was quite an amazing man." his eyes softened moments later, "I ... heard about his death. I'm sorry. But, you're bound to be just as great as he once was, even greater, maybe!" his eyes were sparkling in excitement now.

He was quite the changable fellow. Selenne smiled sadly, "I ... thank you, Milos. But, I'm no where near my father's caliber."

"Well, of course!" Milos cried, grinning broadly, "It took him years to perfect his skill! But, I'll tell you something good, though. Whenever I saw him, he'd rant and raved about _you_! He was so proud of you and how well you were progressing! It was heart-warming!"

"R-really?"

"Oh, yeah! It was always 'Selenne this!' and 'Selenne that!'" the moogle was waving his arms around expressively, a grin still on his face, "It was hard to get a word in edgewise!"

Selenne gazed at him briefly, before her eyes wandered to the ground. Her father ... had been proud of her! So proud, he'd raved about her to everyone he'd met. A genuine smile tugged at her lips.

"Alright, Milos. I'll do it." she said, looking back at the moogle and nodding her head firmly.

Milos blinked, confusion etched clearly on his face, "Huh? Do what?"

"I'll keep up with my training. For my parents."

"Good to hear!" he was grinning again, "And, hey, if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to tag along with you..."

"How come?"

"Well, y'see, learning from great Garen Nathryme's daughter would be such a priviledge and ... you seem like you could use a friend."

Selenne's smile remained on her face, "I'd be honored, Milos Thaddeus Mrite."

"Great!" he hopped onto her shoulders, but not before swiping his daggers off the ground.

Selenne stood, making her way back to the Nomad's camp. One the way, she and Milos talked about ... well, whatever topics surfaced. Selenne told him all about her father and mother and Milos talked about his life in the travelling entertainment troupe.

She liked Milos. He was friendly and cheerful. And Milos liked Selenne for her calm nature and knowledge. The two became fast and steadfast friends.

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[ **The Present: Rabanastre, the Sandsea** ]

- **Selenne's PoV** -

The sounds one would typically hear in a tavern echoed. Glasses clinked as they were set down, barmates chatted over the din of all the other people in the tavern.  
Commotion was brewing in the center, all started by a Bangaa whom shoved a Seeq.

"Looks like there's going to be a row." I muttered, auburn hair falling forward slightly, shielding my face from view. All the better for me.  
I tipped my glass towards my lips and took a quick swig.

"Yeah... I take it we'll be leaving soon, then..?" he sighed, glass on the verge of spilling as he held it loosely in his small paws. He was sitting on the back of the chair.

I stood, "Come now, Milos, you know it's no good if we stay. What use is a bar fight to us, really?"

"Yeah, yeah, Selenne, you're right," the moogle, identified as Milos, smiled, "As always."

I returned the warm smile, "Of course. Now, hurry, we must be off. We still have to find lodging before nightfall."

Milos nodded, hopping off his seat, glass still in hand. Lifting the glass to his mouth, he downed the last of it, exposing his sharpened canines.

Licking his maw, he handed the glass to me to place on the table. I did so, before tailing the flamboyantly dressed moogle out of the Sandsea.

The air outside was muggy and humid. Milos stretched his tiny arms before hopped onto my shoulders.

"So, Selenne. Where to?" he asked, glancing around.

"Mm... to the nearest inn, of course," I mumbled, stepping into the street.

"Of course." Milos, my friend of four years, murmured sarcastically. I smiled.

I'd just stepped down into the street when a familiar voice caught my ears.

_Ba'Gamnan._

The Bangaa's eyes met mine. He narrowed his, stomping towards me, determined.  
My meetings with Ba'Gamnan, a fellow bounty hunter, were never pleasant. He was vulgar, loud, rowdy and impossible. He doesn't listen to reason, and thus I don't associate well with him.  
We've work together a few times; never an enjoyable experience.

"Oi! Nathryme!" he bellowed over the noise of the street. I scowled. Forcing my dislike for the Bangaa into the back of my mind, I curtsied.

"Ba'Gamnan." I murmured, keeping my face low.  
He smirked at me, his expression superior. I neglected to mention: Ba'Gamnan has always thought he was better than me, as it were. Something about females being inferior... I never listen when he goes off on his rants.

"The Cap'n was lookin' fer ya. Somethin' about a job... seein' as he was too lazy to come find ya, he sent me." the Bangaa sniffed the air disdainfully. Clearly he disliked being the messenger between me and Eden, our commander-in-chief.

I smirked at the thought, "Well, Ba'Gamnan? What is it?"

"You know that Sky Pirate? Balthier? Well, she wants you after 'im. Don't know why he chose _your_ talents, though..."

Ba'Gamnan was still talking; I tuned him out, though. Balthier Bunansa, the Sky Pirate, hm? There was quite a price on his head.

Very well, then.

Balthier, your days are numbered.


End file.
